


Too Late

by Danny (DannyC)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Character Death, Everyone shows up in this, Gen, but not everyone gets an actual role
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:31:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7932967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyC/pseuds/Danny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was running late, and it was pretty fucking annoying, but Jason wasn’t stupid enough to admit that it bothered him. Dick would show. He would definitely show. He would show because he cared about Jason or whatever, and would never ditch him without telling him. Dick cared about him – loved him even, and therefor he would definitely show up eventually… even if Jason had been for a while now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Late

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a prompt in which one of the boys dies in the other's arms.

He was running late, and it was pretty fucking annoying, but Jason wasn’t stupid enough to admit that it bothered him. Dick would show. He would definitely show. He would show because he cared about Jason or whatever, and would never ditch him without telling him. Dick cared about him – loved him even, and therefor he would definitely show up eventually… even if Jason had been for a while now.

Okay, so maybe he shouldn’t have expected Dick to remember him, when the guy couldn’t even remember shit dealing with Barbara or Wally at times. He was stupid to think he would be any different, that Dick would see how important something seemingly trivial was to Jason. 

It wasn’t a date, no. Jason didn’t have the balls to call it that, couldn’t even admit to his so-called brother that his affections had long since run deeper than that; how could they not, when Jason had grown so close to his hero as a boy? Things had changed when he’d returned, sure, but Jason had worked hard to redeem himself in the eyes of the other, and now… And now he was trying, reaching out in a wholly personal way, and Dick was probably not coming.

The realization kind of stung. For some reason Jason didn’t want to think about, he’d expected… something. Something more, but what? Had he really thought that Dick would show up and things would go well, that he could live for a few hours like he was a person, like he was Jason Todd again, like he was Dick’s Jason, his Little Wing? Had he honestly thought that for a few hours, life could be like it had been before? That they could set aside things that had happened between them since, forget their mistakes and the hurt, and be two normal fucking humans, two civilians, brothers or friends or something more – whatever?

He had.

He had, and he hated it.

Gritting his teeth, Jason decided not to call. He didn’t want to hear some stupid excuse, so instead his mind jumped to the next best thing; if Dick wasn’t coming, Jason would go to him instead. Dick had clearly forgotten about him, so Jason would remind him that he was there with a fight. It was unkind, but Jason was hurt, and it had always been easier to express his anger than his pain. 

Huffing, it took mere moments to track his number. Jason knew he was probably out as Nightwing by the location of the blip on his phone’s GPS, so Jason took a moment to shrug into his jacket and pull on his helmet, already dressed in some of his other Hood gear from going out earlier that night; the asshole was supposed to come hang out after patrol, they were supposed to watch movies together. Just like old times, Dick had promised. 

Just thinking about it heated his blood, and Jason wasted no time in driving a bike toward the little dot in the corner of his helmet’s HUD screen. It took some time, but not as much as it would have were Jason’s safehouse not in the slums already. When he neared the location he ditched his bike and used his grapple instead, making his way closer and closer to his brother. 

Jason stopped when he caught sight of Nightwing grappling toward him, the two stopping on a rooftop that stopped lower than other buildings nearby, a low-rise surrounded by skyscrapers. 

“Hey,” Dick greeted, a little breathless from whatever he had been doing, “I was just coming to see you.” His little grin looked sincere and Jason felt some of his anger melting away, the rest of it turning into slight annoyance at the other, Jason crossing his arms over his chest and giving a little huff.

“You were supposed to be at my place like an hour ago,” he grumbled, but even that took more annoyance than he really felt. “So, are you coming?” he asked, hating how uncertain he sounded. It was embarrassing, having to ask, and Jason scowled when Dick chuckled.

“What, you thought I forgot?” Dick asked, his tone teasing until he saw the way Jason shifted, tensing at the question. He quickly realized that Jason had indeed thought he’d been forgotten, Dick quickly trying to backtrack and fix things. “I would never forget hanging out with you, Little Wing,” he said; it was a little cheesy, a little too thick, but Dick thought Jason might need it with how uncomfortable he looked. Being forgotten, Dick knew, was one of Jason’s biggest fears. “Come on. I just had a few things to take care of. I was just about to call you,” he claimed, trying to soothe the other further.

“Yeah?” Jason asked, only to clear his throat, “Okay. Fine, we can still hang,” he claimed, like he was allowing Dick some great favor. “I’ve got some movies. And I made something to eat,” he told his brother, flushing faintly then as he said it. He was making it more and more clear how much this had meant to him, and Dick’s face showed his understanding, that he knew that.

“What’d you make, _master chef?_ ” Dick teased then, and Jason snorted, the last of his annoyance melting into amusement as he shoved at Dick lightly. 

“Shut up,” he grumbled, “Come and see. It’s better than whatever you probably would have eaten tonight,” he assured with a smirk. 

Dick grinned as Jason laughed, triumphant. A mischievous smirk took it’s place soon enough though, Dick drawling on. “Is that s–” Dick’s words were cut off by a loud sound, Jason blinking before he started looking around. That was a gunshot. That was definitely a gunshot. 

“Get down,” Jason ordered quickly, ignoring the rain that had spattered onto his uncovered hands. He was still looking around when that thought registered. It wasn’t raining. Dick moved forward, reaching for Jason, to cover him, to hold onto him, to stay upright, something. He gripped his jacket tightly as he stumbled, leaning into him heavily. There was blood on Jason, on his jacket, and Dick tried to ask if he’d been shot. 

Jason held onto Dick when he sagged in his arms, confused and concerned. His nerves were shot, Jason on high-alert as he tried to look around them. “Dick, Dick get up, come on, we’ve gotta move,” he said quickly, hissing the words out. Someone had just shot at them. Someone had just shot at them from above, and they had little cover on the roof. “Come on,” Jason said again, but Dick wasn’t helping him, he was barely standing. Jason grit his teeth and, holding tightly to his brother, dug out his grapple gun to get them down low, hiding them among the cars as he tore off his helmet to hit his emergency beacon to call in the Bat. 

“Dick?” he said again, Jason noting now that Dick wasn’t holding himself up. He grunted as he drug Dick with him, hiding out between some cars with an angle he hoped would keep them safe until reinforcements showed up. “Dick?” he asked once more, laying his brother out in his lap, Dick’s back to his chest. He could see it then, the hole in him, his chest. “Jesus, Jesus, Dick? Come on, talk to me,” he begged, immediately using his hands to put pressure on the wound, “Dick? Answer me,” he demanded, hysteria in his voice as he rocked them slightly. Jesus, oh God what was he supposed to do? 

“Bruce, please– you– Dick’s been shot, you gotta hurry,” Jason said into the comms in his domino mask, voice pinched and tense. He didn’t listen for an answer, didn’t even bother closing the comms as he focused on Dick again. “Come on, stay with me. Dick, Dick, hey, stay with me,” he begged, swallowing thickly. Dick was mumbling, but Jason couldn’t tell what the hell he was saying. It didn’t matter. “That’s it. That’s it, keep talking. Shit,” he cursed, blood bubbling and welling up between his fingers. There was so much, and while Jason was normally okay with this, knew how to stay calm and deal, he was losing it. 

“Dick?” he asked then. Dick wouldn’t answer. “Nightwing?” he tried, no names in the field, no names in the field. Dick wouldn’t move. “Please,” he begged, “Please Dick. Hang on, Bruce is coming. He’s coming,” he promised as he rocked them, trying to stop the bleeding as well as he could. Dick groaned, and Jason apologized for hurting him, but he had to keep the pressure up. 

He stayed that way, holding onto his brother, rocking them as he kept the pressure up and spoke to him, but Dick stopped speaking back. He stopped whimpering, stopped groaning. He wouldn’t move, try to draw away from Jason’s hands, and the blood oozing around his fingers slowed. Jason buried his face in Dick’s neck, but he felt clammy, and Jason couldn’t feel his pulse hammering away. He didn’t stop, didn’t let go. He rocked them and kept the pressure up as he waited for Bruce, Bruce who wasn’t even in Gotham.

When Superman arrived toting the Bat, he could hear Red Hood speaking to Nightwing, mumbling about movies and dinner, apologizing and admitting secret feelings. He immediately stopped Bruce, tried to bar him from the scene. Bruce shouldered past, and Red Robin arrived with Kon-El. Batgirl and Black Bat arrived together, and Clark could hear Oracle speaking into someone’s earwig, but he was too focused on what he couldn’t hear to care. Dick Grayson’s heartbeat had become something familiar to Clark, something easily recognizable after years of knowing him, watching the boy grow into the man he had become. It should have been easy to pinpoint, and yet… 

Clark swallowed thickly, turning his gaze away from the scene. Bruce wouldn’t listen to him, and neither did his children. Robin arrived and was held back by Red Robin, Bruce ordering the others to fan out and locate the shooter, and though Clark wanted to stop them, to tell Bruce he couldn’t really expect them to do anything right now, he was silent; Bruce just didn’t want his children to see Dick this way, and though Clark thought it was ill advised, he was silent. Bruce unclasped his cape and wrapped it around his son’s lifeless body, murmuring a few words to Jason that Clark tried not to listen to before he picked Dick up, leaving Red Hood sitting against a car and stained in blood. Clark wondered if he should call someone, but he didn’t know who. Arsenal, perhaps? Kyle Rayner?

Before he could call anyone at all, Jason stood and picked up his helmet, an ugly browned red staining parts of it, and tugged it back on. He didn’t say anything, just watched Bruce with Dick for a moment before he turned, using his grappling gun to flee the scene. “Ja–” Clark tried, reaching out toward him, but the boy was gone. Clark was stunned and cold, standing in Gotham’s darkened streets for a moment, torn. He still couldn’t hear Dick’s heart beating, and that silence felt much louder than the sounds of the city around him. He shuddered, turning his gaze to Bruce for a moment longer before he took to the skies, searching for whoever had done this.


End file.
